‘Ma?’ It was Basil. ‘Look, Ma, it’s like this. Old Charles and Fabrice and Sigi are here.’
‘Basil, you are a faithful boy. I’ve been so worried!’
‘Oh, so you knew they’d left the booby-hatch, did you?’
‘Yes, their tutor rang up this morning and of course Sigi’s mother and I have been in the most fearful state wondering what had happened to them.’
‘I suppose you thought the robins had covered them with leaves! Your capacity for worry beats anything I ever heard of. Anyway, knowing you, I thought I’d better ease your mind. They are quite alive and nobody has interfered with them, not yet.’
‘So what are they going to do?’
‘Live it up here. They’ve gone to a pop show now this minute to see their idol, Yanky Fonzy.’
‘Have they got much money?’
‘There you are, being your old bourgeoise self. Money! Didn’t you know it doesn’t count in the modern world? Everybody’s got the stuff nowadays. As a matter of fact, they seem to be quite specially well fixed for it – they’ve pooled Charles’s savings, Fabrice’s camera and what Sigi’s old ancestor gave them just now.’
‘Where are they living?’
‘Me Grandad has set them up in a shack he happened to own.’
‘Then quickly give me the address – I’ve got a pencil. Good. Any telephone number?’
‘I’m not allowed to give it. They don’t want the O.C.s beefing down the line – specially Sigi doesn’t.’
The O.C.s, I knew, meant the old couples, in other words us and the Valhuberts. ‘Aren’t they afraid the O.C.s may arrive and beef in person?’
‘Not really. They reckon Father’s too busy – Sigi’s mother is pregnant – Sigi’s father wouldn’t demean himself and if you come over they can cope.’
‘Oh indeed! Let me tell you, Baz, I’ve seldom been so furious.’
‘That’s not reasonable of you, Ma. I don’t see ’ow you could expect them kids to go on wasting the best years of their lives in that ole cackle factory.’
‘Anyway, darling, it was awfully good of you to telephone –’
Alfred surprised me by taking the news very badly indeed. I said, ‘I don’t know why you should mind this more than you did about David and Baz. After all, they are intellectuals, far more brilliant than the little boys, it is dreadfully sad that they should have become so peculiar. But yesterday you said it was only a phase, growing pains. So it is with the others, probably.’
‘I mind less about David and Basil precisely because they are cleverer. They have got their degrees. When they see the futility of their present state they can return to more rewarding occupations. Also there is something in their heads. We may feel annoyed with them for not following the path we had hoped they would, but as human beings they are perfectly entitled to decide for themselves what they wish to do. These boys are only in the middle of their lessons – I don’t see how the gap in their education is ever to be filled. There is no philosophical basis for their conduct; it comes from sheer irresponsibility. You know what I feel about education.’
I could see that Alfred, whatever he might say, had counted as much as I had on magic Eton to produce two ordinary, worthy, if not specially bookish young men and was disappointed as well as disturbed by this new outbreak of non-conformism.
The Valhuberts came round and the two stricken families held a conference. Charles-Edouard was in a rage, with Grace crowing over him annoyingly, I thought.
‘Of course, poor Charles-Edouard is angry with me for being right all along. Such a pity to send the child to Eton, when we could have kept him here and fed him up and had him taught by the Jesuits at Sainte-Geneviève.’
‘My dear Grace, they would never have taken Sigi at Sainte Geneviève. That’s a school for clever boys. Franklin, perhaps – not sure. No. I sent him to Eton for the education, not for the instruction. Sigi has the brain of a bird, as even you must admit. I wanted him to be at least a well-dressed bird with good manners. Besides I can only stand a limited amount of his company. Now he’ll be back on our hands all the year round unless I can persuade them to take him at Les Roches.’
‘If he runs away from Eton he would never stay at Les Roches. It will have to be the Jesuits – you must go and see the Superior at Franklin.’
‘When you do, will you be so good as to ask him to recommend a tutor for our two?’ said Alfred. ‘I suppose we shall have to have them here where we can keep an eye on them; they can at least get a proper grounding in French before they cram for Oxford.’
‘Have them here?’ I said, quite as much dismayed at the prospect as Valhubert was. It seemed to me we had enough on our hands already, what with the holy Zen family, Northey’s caravan of followers and Basil’s Cheshire-cat appearances and wild-cat schemes.
‘What else can we do?’ said Alfred. ‘That school they call the Borstal Boys’ Eton might take them – think of the friends they would pick up there!’
‘Gabbitas and Thring?’
Alfred buried his head in his hands.
Grace now said, with perfect truth, that we were looking too far ahead. We must get them away from London and the shack found for them by my stepfather, under our own influence again, before making these elaborate plans. It was decided that we had better wait until it was reasonable to suppose that they would have run out of cash and that then one of us should go over and bring them back.
‘But what about your father, Grace? If he goes on supplying them they won’t ever run out.’
‘I’m thankful to say he has now left London for a round of shoots and he’ll be away at least a month.’
It then became evident, just as the little brutes had foreseen, that
